


The Last Dance

by Bulletproof_love



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Caring Greg Lestrade, Character Death, Death, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Greg is Sweet, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt, Love, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Near Death, POV Greg Lestrade, Poison, Poor Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletproof_love/pseuds/Bulletproof_love
Summary: Prompt: Mystrade; Dance AU & Twenty-Four Hours to LiveGreg fulfills Mycroft's final wish.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54





	The Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



It was their final dance. It pained Greg to think that it was the last one that him and Mycroft would ever share but he was happy to fulfil Mycroft’s wish.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the unique scent that made up Mycroft as they swayed gently in the darkened hospital room. The light had begun to hurt Mycroft’s eyes in the past few hours, so they had turned off the fluorescent panels above. Instead they were bathed in the hue from the streetlamps outside, seeping in through the open blinds.

Mycroft leaned heavily against him; his fingers linked at the nape of Greg’s neck. His fingertips brushed his greying hair, his smooth cheek pressed against Greg’s five o’clock shadow. His own hands clasped Mycroft’s waist, holding him taut against him. If he just held on tight enough, he could pretend that Mycroft wasn’t slipping away from him, that every single rasp of breath didn’t remind him that soon he would be alone in a bleak, unrelenting world.

In the next few hours Mycroft’s health would deteriorate past the point of no return. He would succumb to the toxins that were coursing through his body and then slip into a coma as his organs began to shut down one after the other.

The ache of emotion in his chest felt overwhelming, he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as Mycroft’s lips grazed his ear, his voice rough from the poison that plagued him.

“Don’t let me go.” He whispered, his words trembling as he spoke. “Hold on to me right until the very end.”


End file.
